


fresh (and you can't take it)

by Ejacyeolation



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 365 FRESH, Anal Sex, Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Smut, Suicide Attempt, implied prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 05:33:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15284757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ejacyeolation/pseuds/Ejacyeolation
Summary: There's nothing better than waking up to the taste of death lingering on your tongue.





	fresh (and you can't take it)

**Author's Note:**

> Heavily inspired by Triple H - 365 FRESH

The pounding sound that his feet make upon making contact with the hard ground further fuels his adrenaline-spiked body into moving faster. A smile snakes around his face, settling on chapped lips as he turns a corner and almost slams head first into one of his pursuers. He prepares to flee, already turning back the way he came, but more of the men are closing in on him from the other side.

He’s trapped between bodies, the owners acting as if they were filled with something other than fat and sweat to be produced. Chanyeol feels the laugh bubbling out his mouth before he registers that his brain finds this whole situation so funny.

“Where’s your little whore, you punk?” One of the dreaming-to-be-burly men asks him, a sneer gracing his ugly mug. “He needs to work his little ass day and night for a whole year just to pay off all your debt.”

He gets a good swing at the man’s offensive face, makes sure he hears the bones in his knuckles give out a warning groan from the sheer force he packs into the punch, before he feels rough hands throwing him back. He knows throwing the first punch is high on the list of stupid things to do when confronted by loan sharks, but fuck the gods if he’d ever let anybody badmouth Baekhyun at this point.

Chanyeol smiles at them, giving them a show of shrugging his shoulders in a “come at me” manner, and come at him they do. Every punch he receives is nothing compared to the ones he’s dealt with before, but their numbers start to weigh his body down. One punch in particular lands on his mouth, causing him to spit out blood just as another couple of fists rain down on his stomach.

He takes the beating, anything to keep his mouth from blurting out the truth.

 _They can’t find Baekhyun,_ he repeatedly chants in his head. _You can’t let them find Baekhyun._

So he lets them have their merry way, punching here and kicking there. Once they’re done, the big boys leave him a warning, tells him he better start spitting money out before they sell him and his pretty boyfriend to the highest bidder.

Chanyeol barely stops himself from flipping them off. He manages a cheery smile instead, waving goodbye to them as they retreat for the day.

He gets a shot of saliva aimed at him for his effort.

 

 

The pounding sound that his heart makes as it doubles its effort to deliver and receive blood from all over his body further drives him into a rigid state of stillness. The first time he felt a hand touch his upper thighs, he had merely moved away, refusing to believe that the action was intentional. After the second and the third incident, he had pointedly clucked his tongue.

He’d also told himself that he was just imagining the smile on the customer’s face.

The reason behind his stillness is the hand that had landed boldly on his ass, currently squeezing and petting it. He snaps out of his trance and moves away, feeling his face heat up and his chest constrict with anger.

“Pardon me, _sir_ , but I have to ask you to leave. You’re in the wrong establishment,” he manages to say with as much conviction as he could muster. He clutches the scissors held tightly in his hand, bringing it close to his chest, when he hears the man’s answering laughter.

“Why, did I move too fast for you? You were okay with it just before I touched your perky ass.”

He grits his teeth, barely containing the anger coursing through him. “Sir, we only offer haircuts here. You have to leave.”

The man rises to his feet, a smug smile on his face. Kyungsoo’s blood runs cold as he steps backward, the man stepping closer and closer into his space. He realizes his mistake when his back hits the hard corner of the countertop, and suddenly the man is pressing up into his private space like a snake would to a mouse.  

The resounding slap he delivers is his second mistake, as there are hands around his neck within a heartbeat of his attempt to fend his assailant off.

“You little fucking bitch,” the man sneers, digging his fingers into Kyungsoo’s throat. One of his hands slips down and starts groping around Kyungsoo’s front, eventually settling on his crotch. “I’m going to fuck you so hard.”

Panic gets him moving, trashing in the man’s grip as the oxygen in his body starts dwindling down to an alarming low. His weakening hands try to find purchase where they can as he manages to throw a handful of punches, but his efforts only drive the man to press into his throat even harder.  He starts looking for something else, this time trying his luck on the array of materials on the countertop.

The moment he feels the cold metal touch his skin, he breathes a sigh of relief. The adrenaline coursing through his veins doesn’t allow for him to think twice about driving the shears into the man’s guts. His flight response had failed him, and so his fight response takes charge and gets him to repeatedly stab the man.

It’s only when he can feel the oxygen freely flowing in and out of his lungs that he stops, letting the man’s body fall into a bloody heap by his feet. He realizes he’s shaking when the shears fall from his grasp, creating a small splash as it hits the pool of blood. His body’s automatic response to the situation is to briskly walk to the storage cabinet and grab as many towels his shaking arms can carry.

 _Have to clean this up_ , he thinks. _Can’t let boss see this mess._

As he bends over to start wiping up the blood, he slips and lands on top of the body, effectively soiling his shirt.

_Fuck._

He scrambles to get the offending garment off his body, feeling the bile rising from his stomach and making quick work of travelling up and out of his mouth.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck._

The coldness of the air-conditioned room causes his bare skin to break out into goose bump, but the working part of his brain acknowledges that it’s not the frigid temperature that’s causing him to break into a violent quiver.

It’s the blood. The blood that clings to his skin, reeking of a metallic tang that renders him nauseous and on the verge of puking. It’s the blood that he foolishly tries to clean up with tattered towels, the blood that’s mockingly swirling around in circles despite his best efforts. It’s the blood on his hands, the blood that he’ll carry around for the rest of his life if he ever gets to survive this night.

It’s the blood that pushes him to stand up, grab a clean shirt from the cabinet, and walk out of the scene without a particular destination in mind.

 

 

The pounding sound that the telephone receiver makes as it repeatedly hits him on the head further infuriates him, leaving behind in its wake a blossoming headache. The flimsy plastic material has done a number on him during the last hour, starting with its wire wrapped around his neck and now with the receiver bashing a hole into his head.

In his mind, he concedes that it’s still better than giving in to the overwhelming urge to get a gun to do the drilling.

It takes him a while to figure out how to stop hitting his head with the phone. In the end, it’s the beckoning of his nicotine addiction that gets him to drop the receiver. He rummages around, praying to the gods in heaven that he isn’t just hallucinating and that there really is still a packet of cigarettes lying around somewhere in all of his mess.

His prayer is answered as he triumphantly fishes out a pack, already halfway done but still as glorious as it had been when he had first opened it an hour ago.

“Marlboro, my good man,” he declares, trapping a stick between his lips and lighting it up. “Patron saint of the eternally fucked up.”

The headache fades as soon as he takes a long drag from his stick, giving him instantaneous relief. He savors the minty flavor that the smoke leaves in his mouth, inhaling everything into his system before finally releasing it back out the way it came. Smoking, for him, isn’t an art form that needs techniques and flare. He doesn’t bother with flashy tricks, has always thought that it was an absolutely moronic thing to do. For him, it will always be puff in, savor, puff out.

Puff in, savor, puff out. Puff in, savor, puff out. Somewhere along the way, Jongin hopes death can somehow find its way into the equation, just as long as it’s not before he can get to the savor part.

 

 

Chanyeol thinks he’s hit the jackpot when he spots two girls chatting in the bar, a shiny set of car keys sitting innocuously on the countertop. He strides over, making sure that he adds a fake wobble to his step as he does so, and slumps his whole body between the two females. He hasn’t had any alcohol in him that night, but he’s had enough in his lifetime to know how to pretend to be a shitfaced pervert.

“What are you two ladies doing here all by yourselves?” he asks, heavily draping his arms over their shoulders and adding a slight slur to his words. “Wanna get out of here, just us three?”

The women are disgusted, but he can’t blame them. One of them pushes him off and he uses the opportunity to slip his hand away and onto the countertop, swiftly taking the keys and stuffing them into his pockets. “Hey, hey. No need to push, m’kay?”

“Get lost, creep,” is the response he gets, and it’s all that he needs to hear. With a final faux-drunken smirk, he makes his exit and heads straight to the parking lot.

It takes him a while but he finally finds the car, a black Mustang that’s had better days but would definitely still do the trick. Whistling to himself, he gets in, revs the engine, and speeds off. There’s a shit-eating grin on his face when he checks the tank, his grin staying in place even when he sees that it’s only half full.

He’s already thinking about where to dump the car when it inevitably runs out of gas when he sees a figure darting across the otherwise empty street. He scrambles to hit the brakes before he can get within hitting distance of the person, not wanting his temporary ride to be painted with someone’s brain. The force of the brakes sends him forward, but the fact that he hasn’t heard any screaming tells him that he’s safe. When he looks up, he sees a guy staring back at him, obviously in shock and distress.

It’s only after a few moments that Chanyeol registers the blood smeared all over the man’s hands.

 

 

Kyungsoo walks around aimlessly, dragging his feet and hanging his head. The cold air of the night repeatedly slap him in the face, its frosty fingers finding their way underneath the thin shirt he had managed to snag. It takes him one quick look around the area to determine that he’s effectively lost his way, finding himself in the middle of a deserted and unfamiliar alley.

Unceremoniously, he trips and falls knee first on the hard asphalt, his hands following soon after in a pathetic attempt to break the fall. For a moment, he stays on the ground, trying to think of a way that the situation could get any worse than it already is. He finds that it would be quite easy for things to take a turn for the worse—with his luck, he wouldn’t be surprised if the police came to take him right then and there.

The thought that gets him moving is that, if he were to get caught, he wouldn’t have the money to pay for a lawyer. He stands up on wobbly legs, berating himself for even falling down in the first place, and he continues to walk towards the end of the alley. He starts to formulate a plan, one that would get him as far away as possible from the crime scene. He’s in the middle of arguing with himself about changing his identity when he sees a flash of light, then he hears the screech of car tiles as they skid to an abrupt halt mere meters away from him.

For a moment, he wishes that the car had just killed him.

Once the thought passes, he peers into the car, seeing a pair of eyes staring back at him. The eyes dart down to his bloodied hands and then back to his face, causing him to freeze up in fear. Had he been caught already? _No, I can still run. I just have to get my legs to move._

Much to his dismay, his legs have apparently frozen solid from the cold, unwilling to move despite his brain firing signals left and right for him to get out of there. He sees the man in the car, still watching him, but the man’s hand had moved. The man gestures something with his free hand, the one that isn’t gripping the stirring wheel.

It takes Kyungsoo a while before he realizes that he’s being called to get in the car.

 

 

Jongin has managed to wrap a plastic bag around his head, completely covering his face and blocking his access to air. Immediately, he struggles to breathe, his hand twitching by his sides, instinctively trying to reach up and tear the offending material out of the way. After a few moments, he gives in and rips a hole into the plastic bag, taking in large gulps of air as he starts feeling lightheaded.

The number of times he’s tried to kill himself in the past year pales in comparison to the number of times he has tried to kill himself in the past 24 hours.

Once he’s removed the plastic from his face and has gotten his breathing back to a reasonable pace, he secures the final cigarette stick between his lips and his handy lighter into his back pocket. After a minute of staring at a dirtied mirror, he decides to leave the trailer.

Outside, the neighborhood is eerily quiet. Living in a trailer parked in a shady camping site has always given him the privilege of a hushed environment, his only living companions around the vicinity being a couple of hobos and the squirrels. The squirrels are cool, some of them are okay with being pet on the head while most of them try to scratch his face off whenever he tries. The hobos, not as cool, but they respect his space and never try to steal from his stuff.

He gets to the main road, lagging behind to lean against a post that reeks of urine. He lights up his final cigarette, taking drag after drag until it’s almost down to the butt. He sees a car by the distance, steadily making its way toward him.

He takes a long puff, savors the taste of mint in his mouth, and steps directly into the path of the incoming car. 

It takes Jongin a while to determine that he is, in fact, still alive. He struggles to stand up, only to get pushed right back to the ground by a man who has decided that it would be fun to beat him down to a pulp. He gets a fist affectionately punched into his cheek a few times, then he vaguely hears another man trying to stop the man currently beating him up. With one eye almost completely swollen shut, he stares up at his assailant and laughs at his face.

That gets the beating to stop, much to his dismay. A part of him, the one that has egged him on to try a hundred dumb ways to die, wants the man to keep hurting him, maybe hard enough that he’ll have to be rushed to the hospital but would end up dying on the way.

_Damn, I really wanna die._

“Are you crazy?” the man asks, as if he hadn’t been drilling his fists into the guy that he just ran over with his car. “You trying to get yourself killed?”

“Congrats,” Jongin spits out. “You have a brain that works.” He pushes the man off him, once again struggling to get to his feet. He feels a throbbing pain around the eye that has swollen shut, making him wince. He spits out blood from his banged up mouth and uses the air in his lungs to scream as hard as he can. He keeps screaming until he feels his throat burn, only stopping when he gets dragged into the car by the two strangers.

“Okay, you crazy fucker. You’re coming with us.”

 

 

They drive for a long while, only pulling up to a stop whenever any of them needs to piss. The two men sit up front, only occasionally talking to confirm if they’re headed the right way. From what he’s heard, they aren’t even headed anywhere.

“You two know each other long?” he asks, watching the smaller of the two fiddle with a bloodied towel.

“Yeah, for about…” the man behind the wheel checks his watch before continuing, “Three hours now. More or less.”

Jongin shrugs, offering his hand to the both of them. “I’m Jongin. You might as well know since y’all have decided to kidnap me.”

The smaller male sputters, turning back to glare at him. “I’m not kidnapping anyone. You’re free to go.” He slaps Jongin’s hand before turning away, going back to staring out the window.

“He’s always been this feisty?” Jongin asks, offering his hand to the other male.

“No, he’s giving you special treatment. Chanyeol,” the man says, taking his extended hand. “That one says his name is Kyungsoo.”

Kyungsoo ignores them, pointedly cranking up the volume of the stereo. Jongin leans back into his seat, resting his head and using the rear-view mirror to observe his two companions. He notes how both men are quite attractive in their own rights. Chanyeol, the tallest of them three, stunts a mop of messy black hair and a smile that could possibly land him a toothpaste commercial. Jongin watches as the muscle in his arms ripple whenever he reaches up to adjust the mirror or rummage around in the glove compartment.

Chanyeol is definitely hot, but Kyungsoo is more of his type. He has always gone with the twinks, and Kyungsoo is an exceptional twink with his pearl white skin, slender neck, and incredibly pouty lips. He watches as the smaller male uses the tip of his tongue to wet his cracked lips, and Jongin decides that he wouldn’t mind running his fingers over the twink’s jet black hair. If he’s gonna die soon, he might as well get himself a piece of that.

He catches Chanyeol’s eyes in the mirror, the other male giving him a look of amused disbelief. He just winks in response.

 

 

Jongin’s starting to enjoy himself when their adventure hits a metaphorical dead end, indicated by the blinking low fuel light. Chanyeol has already told them how the car isn’t his, giving them the details on how he had managed to steal it. Jongin had given him a fist bump, thoroughly impressed, while Kyungsoo just stared at the both of them.

They pull into a deserted gas station and Kyungsoo slumps into his seat. “I don’t have cash on me.” He opens his door and steps out, Jongin appreciating the view of the smaller male stretching his legs out.

“I’ll go check out the trunk,” Chanyeol tells him, indicating that they both should step out.

Jongin complies, making a beeline towards Kyungsoo. The smaller male is slumped on the floor, his legs stretched out in front of him. He languidly raises his eyes to look at Jongin, a perfectly sculpted brow arched in an unvoiced question. The look sends a hard twitch straight to his dick.

“You gay?” he asks, nudging the male’s sneakers with his own.

“What the actual fuck?”

“I don’t like hitting on straight men,” Jongin clarifies. “So, you gay or nah?”

Kyungsoo opens his mouth to answer but gets cut off by Chanyeol calling them. “You guys want in on this or you wanna stay broke all your life?”

Kyungsoo is on his feet faster than Jongin can flip the other guy off for interrupting them. He drags his feet to the car, unexcitedly peering into the trunk. He almost shits himself when he sees the cash stuffed into two giant duffel bags.

The three of them exchange a look, then Chanyeol is putting his arms around them. “Looks like we’re going to Vegas.”

 

 

Kyungsoo stops them from completely blowing all their money on clothes. He handles their shopping for them, picking out clothes that surprisingly look good on all three of them. With his good sense of style, Chanyeol starts to think that Jongin might actually have a shot with the smaller male.

They’re about to pay for the clothes when he spots a pink satin top. He knows, from the color and material alone, that Baekhyun would look perfect in it. He picks it up by the hanger and unceremoniously dumps it onto Kyungsoo’s arms.

The smaller male looks at the top, then at Chanyeol. He seems doubtful but only says, “I think you got the wrong size.”

“It’s for my boyfriend,” Chanyeol explains, ignoring the way Jongin’s head snaps to look at him so fast, he’s surprised it doesn’t snap right off his neck. “Baekhyun. It’s for Baekhyun.”

At that, Kyungsoo shrugs. “He’s got good taste.”

Jongin already has his new clothes on, so he leans down and has the cashier punch the bar code dangling from his nape. He turns around, lifts the loose-fitting shirt, and presents the lady with his ass. “These too, sorry.”

The cashier doesn’t seem to mind, indulging Jongin’s advances by pulling back the pants and punching the code. She tugs on a belt loop and pretends to peek, giving a low, appreciative whistle. “Nice.”

Kyungsoo doesn’t give her the same show, dumping all the clothes on the conveyor belt with a blank face. Chanyeol shares a look with Jongin, shaking his head at the latter’s antics. With their clothes in bags, paid for by the stolen money, they head to the first bar they see.

 

 

He leaves the other two in the middle of the dance floor to change into his new clothes, feeling extremely uncomfortable in his own skin. He has managed to avoid thinking about the man he killed, thanks to Jongin and Chanyeol constantly talking his ear off. He hasn’t told them about that, and they haven’t tried to ask him about the dried up blood on his hands. The two had helped him wash his hands clean before they stepped into the mall, but, even with the visible evidence gone, he still feels the warm liquid all over his skin.

Kyungsoo spends a good half hour scrubbing his hands clean, making sure that he gets rids of the dried up blood under his nails. He wets his old shirt and uses it to clean his torso of the blood that clung there. The door opens and he just about experiences a heart attack. Jongin, stupid fucking Jongin, sticks his attractive mug into the bathroom and looks him up and down.

“Yo,” the other male says, oblivious to his distress. “Were you taking a dump?”

“No, you fool,” he grits out, resuming his frantic scrubbing. Jongin enters the bathroom and saunters over to him, a shit-eating smile on his face. “What do you want?”

“Here,” the taller male offers, taking the soiled shirt from Kyungsoo’s hand. “Let me help you with that.”

Kyungsoo is ready to decline, but Jongin proves to be a better cleaner than him. He gets the flakes of blood of his skin in no time, occasionally swiping his tongue against his thumb and using it to rub at stubborn spots. Once he’s done, Jongin steps back to let Kyungsoo slip his new shirt on.

He unbuckles his belt, giving the other male a pointed look. Jongin chuckles and turns around, letting Kyungsoo slip out of his pants and into fresh ones. He feels infinitely better already.

“You know,” Jongin starts, still facing away. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

Kyungsoo’s silence has the other male turning to face him, a smug yet inquisitive smile playing on his lips. Kyungsoo thinks it would be easier to ignore him if he weren’t so attractive. He raises an eyebrow, still ignoring the question, and walks out the door with the other male hot on his trail.

“It’s just a yes or no,” Jongin insists, following him all the way to the bar. They sit side by side and he orders the both of them a bottle of beer, much to Kyungsoo’s annoyance.

“Just a few hours ago you were ready to die,” Kyungsoo says, surprising himself. He glances at Jongin, trying to see if he has offended the other male. Jongin only gives him a look that tells him to continue. “Now you want to fuck?”

Jongin places his elbow on the countertop, resting his chin on his open palm. “I’m still ready to die,” he says. “And yeah, I do want to fuck. I want to fuck you, ‘cause you’re totally my type.”

“Or you could fuck me,” he adds, almost as an afterthought. “I’d be glad to accommodate your preferences.”

It gets Kyungsoo to smile. He leans in and kisses Jongin on the mouth, pulling back before the other male could reciprocate. “Does that answer your question?”

“This is a litigious society, I’m gonna need verbal consent.”

If Kyungsoo had fluffy ears, they would have perked up. “You watch the Big Bang Theory?”

Jongin’s face falls and he groans, letting his head fall down to rest on the cold countertop. The bartender arrives with their bottles and Jongin downs half of his in one go. “You weren’t supposed to recognize that.”

“I didn’t peg you as the nerdy type.” _No one would_ , Kyungsoo mentally adds. _Not with those looks._

“Smart people don’t watch that show because it’s stupid,” Jongin drawls, twirling his beer around. “That’s why you shouldn’t be discouraged. I assure you, I’m a good lay.”

“We’ll see.”

 

 

Chanyeol finds the two sitting by the bar, looking like they were arguing about something. He’s ready to break off the argument when Kyungsoo dives nose first into Jongin’s face, kissing him on the lips. The sight stops him in his tracks, surprised that Jongin was actually able to persuade the smaller male.

There’s a pang in his chest as he remembers the way that he had incessantly pursued Baekhyun until the other had finally agreed to go on a date with him, insisting that he was only doing it to shut Chanyeol up. The first date had been followed by another, then another, then they were moving in together. For years, as they lived together and played house, Chanyeol had thought that nothing could go wrong until absolutely everything went wrong.

He grits his teeth, willing away the bad thoughts, and approaches the other two. When he gets to them, he can practically taste the sexual tension in the air. “You two gonna stay sober all night?”

“Fuck no,” Jongin says, his eyes still trained on Kyungsoo. The smaller male snorts, rising to his feet. He looks at Chanyeol, waiting for him to lead the way. There’s two empty bottles of beer on the table that the raven swiftly pays for.

“Come on, I got us a private room.”

Chanyeol pretends that he doesn’t see the way Jongin and Kyungsoo exchange a heated look.

 

 

He’s not drunk, that he knows for sure. He’s sure of this because he’s done his best to push his shots onto the two other men. He’s content with occasionally taking a drag from the bong, enjoying the slight high he’s developed over the past few hours.

Chanyeol, on the other hand, has passed out on the sofa, his long legs dangling off one side. He’s had the most drinks out of the three of them, always willing to take Kyungsoo’s shot for him.

It was almost as if he had wanted real bad to get drunk enough to pass out and be completely oblivious to the world. Judging from the looks that Jongin keeps shooting at him, he isn’t alone in that thought.

“You’re so drunk,” he tells the taller male, a hint of disappointment in his tone. “I bet you can’t even get it up.”

Jongin raises an eyebrow at him. “Wanna check?” he challenges. “C’mere.”

Kyungsoo stands up to the challenge, purposely swaying his hips a bit as he makes his way towards the other male. Jongin grabs his hand and places it on his crotch, smirking up Kyungsoo. There’s an undeniable hardness there that has Kyungsoo feeling warmth blossom in his chest.

“Still think I’m too drunk to fuck you?” Jongin asks, using the palm of Kyungsoo’s hand to slowly jerk himself off through the coarse fabric of his jeans. “Still think I can’t get this hard for you?”

He settles himself onto the taller male’s lap, reaching his other hand out to grip his shoulder. “Are you really a blonde?” he asks, leaning down to press his nose into Jongin’s hair. The strands are soft against his skin, tickling his nose.

“That’s such a private question,” Jongin says, frowning. “Why not ask me something like, I don’t know, how long my dick is?”

“I’ll get to find out about that soon.” As he says this, he slips a finger under the waistband of Jongin’s loose pants, lightly fingering the skin underneath. He feels a jolt of pleasure shoot down his groin when he discovers that the blonde has foregone wearing an underwear.

“Not soon enough.” Jongin’s voice has turned tremulous, his already gravelly voice taking on an even deeper tone. “You gonna suck me off or what?”

Kyungsoo ignores him, taking his sweet time. He keeps lightly touching the skin just above his pubes, a thrill running down his spine every time his hand brushed against coarse hair. “You wanna know how I got all that blood on me?” He asks, tracing the other male’s lips with his tongue. He continues, not waiting for an answer, “I killed a guy because he tried to rape me.”

For a moment, he braces himself, thinking he’d end up on the floor when Jongin throws him off from his lap. Instead, he’s pulled in closer to the man’s chest. “Good thing I asked for permission, then.”

He leans down for a kiss, putting a temporary stop to his teasing in order to use his hands to grip Jongin’s neck. The kiss starts off with more teeth than lips, the both of them trying to assert dominance over the other. Kyungsoo feels his dick straining against his pants, Jongin’s hands groping his ass. The taller male is using his hold on him to make him grind down on Jongin’s crotch, making him dry hump the blonde.

It feels good, incredibly so, but all Kyungsoo can think about is Jongin’s length in his mouth. He pulls backs, climbing off of the Blonde and pulling him up as he went. With Jongin standing up, Kyungsoo drops down to his knees and makes quick work of his pants. A moan almost escapes his lips when he releases Jongin’s dick from his pants.

“So you really are a blonde,” Kyungsoo says before taking the head into his mouth, twirling his tongue around the tip. He alternates between using the flat of his tongue to lick long stripes on his shaft and using his mouth to suck and take in as much of Jongin’s dick as he can.

Although he’s only had two sexual partners in the past, both of them had always fallen apart whenever he’d use his hand to jerk off what his mouth couldn’t reach. He does the same to Jongin, peering up to gauge his reaction. Even with the dim lighting, he can see how hard Jongin’s jaw is clenched, and he can almost imagine how large his pupils might be. He sees the veins on the blonde’s hand before it disappears into his hair, making him suck deeper and harder.

As much as he’d like to swallow his cum, Kyungsoo would very much like to be boned tonight. He pulls back and leads Jongin to the unoccupied bed, passing by Chanyeol still sleeping on the couch. They both laugh a little before Jongin latches his mouth onto Kyungsoo’s neck, sucking and biting while he worked on getting the smaller male out of his pants.

When they’re both completely naked, Kyungsoo reaches down for his pants and retrieves a small sachet of lube and a couple of condoms from his back pocket, earning a raised eyebrow from Jongin. “Always good to carry them around.”

Jongin doesn’t bother teasing him about it, just takes the lube and the condoms from him without a word. Kyungsoo pushes him back onto the bed, crawling on top of him and straddling his hips. The positions allows for their lengths to align against each other, eliciting a moan from the both of them. Using his hand to press their dicks together, he leans down and latches his mouth onto Jongin’s. He’s too busy humping the blonde that he doesn’t notice how Jongin tears open the lube, pouring a generous amount onto his fingers. When he feels the cold and wet tip of a finger gently probe at his entrance, he almost jumps. His eyes snap open, a gasp escaping his agape mouth.

“You okay?” Jongin asks, pausing his ministrations. “Are you good with me topping?”

Kyungsoo nods, trying to get his heart to calm down. “Yeah, you just surprised me is all.”

“It’s okay,” the blonde whispers. “I got you.” The lube-coated finger circles his entrance, probing it. Jongin takes his time, inching his way in. By the time he has two fingers scissoring and prepping Kyungsoo’s ass, the latter has already forgotten about what had gotten him all nervous in the first place.

Jongin retracts his fingers, kissing Kyungsoo on the mouth when he whines from the loss of contact. He uses his mouth to open a condom and has Kyungsoo roll it on his dick. He takes Kyungsoo’s hand and pours lube onto his open palm. “Jerk me off.”

Kyungsoo doesn’t need to be told twice, grasping Jongin’s length and pumping him, spreading the lube all over dick. He doesn’t know how long he goes at it, barely registers how Jongin’s hands grip the sheets beneath them. He gets a quick slap on the butt that causes him to audibly moan in pleasure, trying to bite his lip to control the sounds he makes. Seeing his reaction, Jongin keeps spanking him until Kyungsoo stops jerking him off, too stimulated and sensitive to move.

“On your knees for me, love,” Jongin whispers directly into his ear, causing his already reddened skin to break out into goose bumps. In his state of arousal, Kyungsoo almost doesn’t pay attention to the pet name.

Almost.

He complies, shaking in anticipation. He buries his head into the pillows, a loud moan escaping his lips when he feels the tip of Jongin’s dick pressing against his hole. No matter how horny the blonde is, he still takes his time, easing into the smaller male with practiced restraint. It causes Kyungsoo’s chest to constrict, both from how good he feels and from the fear that a touch of intimacy might be invading an otherwise purely sexual act.

Kyungsoo wants to get rid of the false sense of affection, tries get Jongin to slam into him already and stop trying to be so gentle with him. He can’t do much, not when the blonde has him pinned down by the nape of his neck and not when he’s genuinely enjoying the way things are going.

With Jongin fully situated inside him, he lets go of the breath he hadn’t known he was holding. They both take a moment to breathe, Jongin letting him adjust to being filled up. When he starts slowly fucking himself on Jongin’s dick, the blonde makes his move. What first starts out with long, languid thrusts, soon turns into an almost frenzied pounding. In the back of his head, he’s aware of the amount of noise they’re making, but the part of him that wants to cum so bad doesn’t allow for him to think too much about Chanyeol waking up and finding them like this.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants. “God, I’m so close. I’m so fucking close.”

“You can call me Jongin,” the blonde answers, punctuating each word with a hard thrust. He reaches around and makes Kyungsoo suck on his fingers, allowing the smaller male bite down on them when he comes. Kyungsoo’s walls constrict around Jongin and, soon enough, he feels the other male pulsing inside him. When Jongin pulls out, Kyungsoo moans from the oversensitivity and overstimulation.

The last thing he remembers before passing out is the feeling of his head being tucked in to rest on Jongin’s chest.

He wakes up in the morning sandwiched between two bodies, one of them naked and one of them reeking of alcohol. Both men are somehow touching him, Jongin’s arm slung around his waist in a loose embrace and Chanyeol’s hand resting on the swell of his ass. He tries to remember whether he had actually slept with the both of them but finds it unlikely as Chanyeol’s fully clothed and has openly declared that he has a boyfriend. He decides that the best course of action would be to take a bath.

Wincing a little from the pain radiating from his hips, he steps into the shower and fully cleanses himself of last night’s debauchery. He doesn’t know how long he stays in there, but when he gets out he sees the two men watching the television. He hears bits of what the reporter on TV is saying before he can look at what they’re watching. When he does, his blood runs cold.

There, plastered on the television screen, is a grainy picture of him. Below his picture are details on how people can contact the local authorities if anyone is able to spot Kyungsoo. His eyes blur when he sees the words MURDER SUSPECT. The television is turned off, the room filling with nothing but silence.

Chanyeol is the first one to break it. “Wanna go meet Baekhyun?”

 

 

Baekhyun, as it turns out, is buried about six feet below the ground.

“Only the three of us know that he’s here,” Chanyeol tells them. He’s holding onto the pink satin top that he got from their shopping spree. “I’d like for it to remain that way.”

Jongin nods at him, stepping away as Chanyeol knelt down by Baekhyun’s grave to give him some privacy. He turns to face Kyungsoo, who hasn’t said a single word since they found out that he’s currently wanted by the police. The smaller male’s hands are balled into fists by his sides, his jaw visibly clenching and unclenching. Jongin had wanted a repeat of last night to happen today, maybe keep going at it until he inevitably has to part ways with them.

With the way things have turned out, he doesn’t think he’ll even get a word out of Kyungsoo now.

Chanyeol finishes up, leaving the smoothly folded dress shirt on top of his boyfriend’s grave. They all get into the car again, driving away from the graveyard and onto the road heading back to where they all came from. There is something about the atmosphere inside the vehicle that has Jongin sick to his stomach.

Maybe because the other two remind Jongin of himself now.

Chanyeol keeps driving. He drives past the sign that tells them they’re exiting Las Vegas. He drives past the sign welcoming them to Boulder City. He drives past a patrol unit that signals for them to stop to be inspected. Soon enough, there’s about half a dozen police cars chasing after them, but Chanyeol keeps on driving.

Jongin looks at Kyungsoo, sharing the backseat with him but refusing to meet his gaze. Wordlessly, Kyungsoo reaches out and holds his hand. It’s at that moment that Jongin figures it out, realizes where they’re all heading to. He squeezes Kyungsoo’s hand in his, his answer to an unspoken question.

They keep driving until the cliff comes into view. Still holding hands, they get off the car. Kyungsoo heads over to Chanyeol, Jongin right behind him, and reaches out to hold his hand as well. Red and blue lights flash behind Jongin’s eyes as he closes them, savoring the feeling of the untainted air caressing his face. He can hear people barking at them to step away from the cliff but he doesn’t pay attention, stretching out a leg to let it dangle precariously on the edge.

When he opens his eyes, both Kyungsoo and Chanyeol are staring at him. The last thought he allows himself to have as he prepares for the jump is how, for the first time in many years, he finally feels alive again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> im sorry


End file.
